Fishbowl

One of the things I used to enjoy the most about blogging was that my posts didn't necessarily have to make sense or to have a point. They were just an amalgamation of random thoughts popping into my head at various points in my life. More than anything -- even more than further proof to my nearest and dearest that I am clearly insane -- it has served as a sort of time capsule for me. I love the fact that I have been blogging since 2004 and can look back at various points and relive certain moments. Suffice it to say I am a very nostalgic person.

The past few days I have been very disappointed in (at, about) people in general. I am disappointed in the lack of honesty, the lack of understanding and the lack of tolerance in many of the people I've met or know. It's not necessarily a good point for a prospective psych major to reach, but I suppose being interested in people means that sometimes one becomes emotionally involved in people, and thus has the capacity to be disappointed by them.

I don't honestly recall being disappointed like this anywhere else but here, in my hometown. Way back in 2001 I graduated from high school and decided I would prefer to be anywhere but here. I sent my boyfriend off to college in Edmonton, and made my way to the small town of Jasper, where I set to work carving out my own niche and life.

Eventually I moved on, finding Jasper too small still, and over the past 8 years, I floated from place to place like a good little gypsy, but invariably found myself back here for some reason or another. Every time I came back I felt like I was in a time warp. People here still acted the same, still bickered and gossiped over the same things, and were still just as intolerant of anyone different as they always were.

I envy people who grew up in cities for this very reason.

When I made the decision to stay here, back in February (granted, for a lot of the wrong reasons) I made a promise to myself that I would stay out the soap opera that is life in a small town. I would throw myself 100% into school, focus on the good friendships I had, spend more time with my family and separate myself from situations where the potential to become gossip fodder was likely.

Sadly, focusing on at least one friendship in particular has brought me back into public focus, and I should not have been so naive to believe that I was capable of blending in enough to avoid scrutiny again. It was a regrettable decision, and one I hope to never have the poor judgment to repeat.

Facebook has also played a huge role in creating bad situations. I have to be more aware that life in a fishbowl is intensified when you narrate it yourself via status messages (or in some cases, have it narrated for you via bogus status messages typed by dumb friends). It's also put me in touch with some people who prove that, 1) Some people take high school and the situations it presented FAR too seriously, 2) People will always claim to 'know' you, but invariably they know NOTHING about you, and 3) You can take 'em out of their small town, but you can't take the small town out of them.

I heard a good quote once, and I sometimes have to remind myself of it:

"Never respect the opinions of those people you don't respect yourself"

But as easy as it is to pretend like you're impervious to harsh criticism, and to act like you're indifferent to what others think of you, I know very few people that can follow through with that line of thinking. I wish I were one.

My Type

"What is your type?"

This seems to be a popular question posed to me lately, so I figured why not fill in a blogging void with my own personal boy wishlist? I kind of feel like a female version of Gary and Wyatt from Weird Science, except I'm not actually creating my dream man, just dreaming.

Most people that know me well know I am a sucker for a guy with glasses and dark, curly hair. I think I'm probably meant to end up with a Jewish guy, but considering my dismal past experiences with invasive parentals, it could be a recipe for disaster.

That's not to say that a blonde or a redhead might not eventually steal my heart, but a guy with dark hair is far more likely to turn my head.

While, I don't like to focus on physical attributes, tall men with beautiful eyes and strong arms are also personal head-turners.

Intelligent men are a must. As are honest ones, funny ones, naughty ones, and REAL ones. A reasonable libido is also helpful.

Other favored qualities include being:

-Flexible (and I don't mean that I value doublejointed men -- I can't stand rigid people who are stubborn and completely set in their ways and refuse to entertain an idea that they didn't think of themselves).
-A good conversationalist.
-Spontaneous.
-Good with animals.
-Supportive.
-Caring.
-FUN.
-Goal Oriented.
-Independent.
-Humble (boys need to learn to ask for directions).

Considering the only man I've ever loved was a WOW playing, Star Wars figurine collecting Mac-Cult member with a DeLorean, I'd say it's safe to say I kind of have a thing for geeks, too. Corina understands.

That was fun.

I should dream up Mr. Right more often.

Bah -- Weekends

Ha Ha -- fooled ya. Three posts in April and it looked like I might be back to blogging regularly, until almost a month blows by with not even a random picture to let everyone know I'm alive. It's a good thing my followers are also my Facebook friends and my blog isn't the only "Is she alive?" gauge I have, otherwise I'd like to think I'm important enough to SOME people that someone somewhere would be worried.

I'm giving up on weekends. I know that was my FB status last weekend, but I really truly tried to focus on the fact that it's Victoria Day on Monday, and ignoring the Saturday/Sunday combo just prior to it so I could be true to my word.

See, for anyone who wasn't paying attention, 2 weekends ago, things were going swimmingly until I got a frantic phone call from Mom asking me to meet her at the vet clinic ASAP. Kristy and I disengaged from our coffee/suntanning and dutifully went.

As it turns out, Sugar (my mom's current superstar) was very lethargic, vomiting and convulsing, so after an hour of mopping up vast amounts of drool, watching her have a seizure and listening to the results from the battery of tests she underwent, we finally had a result. Oddly enough, Sugar was suffering from acute WATER intoxication resulting in a potassium deficiency or 'hypokalemia'. Turns out (as crazy as it may sound), drinking large amounts of water can actually be very detrimental to your health (check this out if you're in doubt). Fast forward 4 very boring hours of sitting on the vet office floor while Sugar was rigged to an IV and we eventually had our maniac back, but it was still extremely scary. I can safely say if I go the rest of my life without ever seeing another dog have a seizure, I'd be fine with it. The scariest part was that she was a little less than an hour from her internal organs shutting down. A little food for thought for pet owners as we approach the hot summer months -- monitor your pet's water intake.

After averting crisis #1, I went home, exhausted and promptly fell asleep. The next day as Kristy and I were grocery shopping, I got a phone call from mom who mentioned the neighbours down the road had started a substantial brush fire. She was nonchalant about it since the volunteer fire department was already on the scene working to put it out, and she had a full cistern of water at her disposal in case it spread. An hour later, I receive an increasingly more frantic phone call that her power is now out, rendering her cistern water inaccessible without the use of the electric pump. Within half an hour, I receive the third phone call of the night informing me she may have to evacuate soon as the fire had spread.

To a normal household, evacuation might be a stressful experience, but in her situation, it was beyond that. 13 dogs and a horse make it no easy task.

So Kristy and I fuel up and head out to the farm to go lend a hand and prevent mom from having a total breakdown.

By the time we got there things were pretty much under control, though, so we helped make coffee for the firefighters and checked out the damage so far. At about 9, we were tired, so we headed back to town, leaving the fire crew to their work and mom in considerably better spirits.

Then last weekend, as per usual, Kristy and I were chilling out having a coffee and people watching when my phone rings with a call from Home. Since I know full well my mom is on the plane home from Vancouver, I'm puzzled but I pick up. It's my dad, wondering if I can come pick up my brother who has evidently broke his shoulder in a dirt biking accident.

We meet him outside of town, and he rushes back to Grande Prairie to pick up mom. We take Garhett to the hospital, where they diagnose him with a fractured clavicle. Garhett whines that it might prevent him from going out again the next day -- as if that's the worst of his worries.

Amazingly, Mother's Day went off without a hitch.

All this week, I've been excited about camping. While a few friends have bailed already, Kristy, my friend Rick, and I were still very gungho about going. Rick had taken Friday off to drive here from Edmonton, and despite the warnings about snow, we still decided we'd make the most of May Long.

Last night I receive a phone call from Rick. His fuel pump in his car appears to be shot, so he'll be delayed by a day while he gets it fixed. I remain optimistic.

This morning another call: it's not the fuel pump, it's something BEHIND the fuel pump, and probably won't be fixed until Tuesday. I'm bummed about not getting to hang with him, but remain optimistic that Ms. K and I can still do something this weekend in order to salvage it.

Tonight we decide to go for coffee and on our way to Tim Hortons we hear something every car owner fears... a loud Kah-thunk sound, followed by rattling, followed by hissing air. Something punctured the tire of the car.

So here I sit at 10 to 1 in the morning, hoping a tire shop is open in the morning in order to replace the tire and thinking our w.e.e.k.e.n.d. plans are pretty much shot if not.

Oh boy.

If you're the one who placed the weekend curse on me, let me know. We can work out our differences some other way.